


September Challenge (SePTXCC17)

by xxalways_and_foreverxx



Category: Pentatonix, Superfruit
Genre: M/M, September Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-01
Updated: 2017-09-23
Packaged: 2018-12-22 10:49:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 10,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11965860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxalways_and_foreverxx/pseuds/xxalways_and_foreverxx
Summary: Drabbles/short fics based off prompts. One for every day in September.





	1. Coffee

**Author's Note:**

> Because I'm original, I'm using the prompts as titles!
> 
> Enjoy <3

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Mitch asks him as he picks up the pot to pour his eighth cup of coffee today.

Scott looks from Mitch to his mug and back before steadily pouring, not taking his eyes off his friend the whole time. He only glances down the last second when Mitch goes to stop him.

Mitch rolls his eyes and walks away, shouting over his shoulder, "Don't come crying to me when you can't sleep tonight."

Scott chuckles, lifting the mug and inhaling deeply.

There's no danger of that happening. Between his lack of sleep the previous night, his six-am start this morning, and a two-hour gym session, coffee is the only thing keeping him awake.

He's sure he'll have no problem falling asleep when he finally crawls into bed.

\--

Scott groans as he rolls over. He presses the home button on his phone, sighing as it reads '02.00'. He's been in bed for an hour and he's no closer to falling asleep. As soon as he turned the light out, he felt wide awake.

And dammit, Mitch was right. The absolute last thing he wants to do is to go and beg Mitch to wake up and watch a movie with him. Scott doesn't think he can take the " _I told you so_ " that would be thrown his way.

With one last sigh, Scott pushes the comforter off his body and swings his legs over the side of the bed. He grabs his sweats that he left on the floor and slides them on. Grabbing the blanket at the end of the bed, he slings it over his shoulder and quietly opens his door, tiptoeing out of his room and towards the living area.

He flicks the lamp on at the side of the sofa and lies down, snuggling into the cushions and pulling the blanket over his shoulders. Turning the tv on, Scott quickly lowers the volume to a barely audible hum so he doesn't wake up Mitch.

He has no idea why he can't sleep. Especially after last night. His brain was going a million miles an hour; running through their schedule for the next week, remembering he needed to ask Ben about a song idea for the new album and a number of other things that could've waited until he woke up. But no, it's like his mind wanted to fuck with him, making him anxious that he'd forget something important.

Clicking through channel after channel, Scott finally settles on an animal documentary. Honestly, he doesn't really want to watch tv, but the pictures are pretty and the narrator's voice is soothing. A low drone in the background that counteracts the buzzing in his ears. He closes his eyes, snuggling back into the cushion and pulling the blanket further under his chin.

He can't have been lying there for longer than ten minutes when a shadow crosses in front of his eyes.

When Scott opens them, Mitch is looking down at him. His own eyes are squinting against the bright light of the tv, hair in a disarray from where he's been lying on it.

"Budge over," Mitch grumbles.

Scott huffs, but does as he says.

He helps Mitch climb over him, waits for him to settle with his back against the back of the sofa, head pillowed on Scott's shoulder. Scott adjusts the blanket over both of them, arm tightening around Mitch's back and pulling him closer into his side. He closes his eyes and settles his head against Mitch's.

"Can't sleep?"

Scott shakes his head slightly.

"I told you to stop drinking coffee."


	2. Knife

“Where did you pick this up again?” Nicole asks as she sits next to Scott at the table. She takes a sip from her wine glass before settling against Scott’s side.

“I don’t know. I think a fan gave it to us?” Scott looks up from his notepad, staring hard at the board in front of him. He actually has no idea where the game came from, but he could care less right now as he looks up at Mitch, who’s quirking an eyebrow at him over the table, smug grin on his face. Scott is going to win if it’s the last thing he does. “Was it Colonel Mustard in the conservatory with the rope?”

Mitch glances at his cards before shaking his head. He shows one to Scott, ‘ _ Colonel Mustard _ ’ written across the front. Scott huffs in frustration. “Nope, nice try.”

Mitch sets it down next to the board and picks his own notepad up. He taps the tip of his pencil against his lip in thought. Scott wants to scream.

They’ve been playing for nearly an hour and he’s no closer to finding out who killed their imaginary victim. 

When they got back on the bus after their latest show and Mitch suggested they play while everyone else occupied themselves, Scott couldn’t really turn him down. Didn’t  _ want _ to turn him down. One-on-one time with Mitch when they are on tour is rare and Scott was more than happy to blow off all their friends to play for an hour. They set themselves up on the table in the corner, quickly getting lost in their own little bubble.

Scott just wishes he had some idea of what he’s doing.

“I’m going to make an accusation,” Mitch says in a terrible fake British accent. Scott rolls his eyes. “I think it was Professor Plum in the study with the knife.”

He reaches for the envelope in the middle of the board and slides the three cards out. A bright grin blooms on his face. Scott knows he’s done for.

Mitch lays them face-up on the board, and sure enough, they say ‘ _ Professor Plum _ ’, ‘ _ Study _ ’ and ‘ _ knife _ ’.

Nicole laughs and pats Scott on the arm, calling out “Sorry, Scotty” as she goes back over to the others. 

“Dammit,” Scott sighs, covering his face with his hands. 

“Yes!” Mitch cheers, throwing his arms up in the air. “I win. You lose. I am the best.”

Scott groans. “I was so sure I was going to beat you.”

“Honey, you didn’t stand a chance.” Mitch crosses his arms in front of his chest. Scott pouts at him. “Now about that forfeit…” He trails off when he fixes his gaze back on Scott. “Oh baby, it’s just a game.” He laughs before rounding the table to sit next to Scott. Wrapping his arm around Scott’s shoulders, he leans up to press a kiss to Scott’s cheek.

Scott uses Mitch’s close proximity to his advantage.

“Oh, god, no,” Mitch screams as Scott tickles him, trying to squirm away without falling on the floor. He knocks the table with his knee, groaning in pain. 

“Serves you right for being smug about it,” Scott giggles breathily as he stops, adjusting them so Mitch is tucked into his side. He rubs the knee Mitch smacked on the table and kisses the top of his head.

“Dammit right, I’m smug right now.”

“Yes, yes, well done. Rematch?” Scott asks, already pulling away to reset the board. They can afford to ignore everyone else for another hour.

“Oh, it’s on!”


	3. Underwear

Mitch opens the door and immediately regrets it when what feels like a wall of heat smacks him in the face. He crosses the threshold, struggling to keep ahold of his bags and shrug off his jacket so he doesn’t start melting on their front step. 

He pushes the door shut behind him and starts to climb the stairs, calling out “Scotty!” as he reaches the top. 

“In here,” is the weak-ass response he gets, so with a sigh, Mitch follows it until he reaches the kitchen. He sighs again in exasperation at the sight before him as he drops his bags onto the counter and hangs his jacket on the back of a chair.

Scott is lying on the kitchen floor, in nothing but his underwear, arms and legs spread out. Sweat glistens on his chest and his hair is pushed back off his face. Mitch isn’t averse to seeing Scott like this, welcomes the sight even, but lying on the kitchen floor isn’t the normal setting.

“What’s going on? Why are you on the floor? And why does it feel like the pits of hell in here?” Mitch pulls his shirt away from his chest where it’s already sticking.

“A/C broke. Engineer can’t come until tomorrow.”

“And you thought the best place to get comfortable was the kitchen floor?”

“Well, it’s a lot cooler than sitting on the sofa. I was starting to stick.”

“Ew,” Mitch wrinkles his nose in disgust.

Scott groans. “I’m so hot.”

“Yeah, you are,” Mitch quips, swallowing his giggle when Scott glares at him. “Oh, come on. Why don’t you go have a cool shower and we’ll hang out on the balcony with a bottle of wine. It’s like the arctic out there compared to in here.”

Scott smiles at him appreciatively before pushing himself up onto his feet, abs clenching as he stands. Mitch’s mouth waters. Mama likes very much. Scott wanders over to him on unsteady legs, stopping less than an inch away. This close Mitch can see the beads of sweat making their way down Scott’s chest and he licks his lips. Scott’s hand comes up to tilt Mitch’s face up towards his and he drops a chaste kiss on Mitch’s lips.

“Why don’t you join me?” Scott asks, voice low enough that Mitch feels it in the bottom of his stomach.

Hmm. That sounds like a better plan.


	4. Moment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone is doing okay today <3

All he needs is five minutes, he thinks, as he leans against the wall behind him, rubbing a hand across his face. Five minutes to breathe, to drink some water and stop his brain from spinning. He just wants a moment to himself. His brain screams for peace and quiet, his body aches to lay down. But he can’t have either of those things.

They’ve been go go go since sun-up. Arranging and interviews and rehearsals.

Even his evening is planned out for him. Dinner and drinks with friends before a night out to celebrate an acquaintance's birthday. He wishes he could make his excuses to miss it, but he prides himself on being reliable; pushing himself even when he doesn’t think he has the energy left to smile.

The door to the quiet back room he found creaks open and Scott groans as his attempt for solitude is interrupted. When he looks up, he sees Mitch leaning against the door frame. His arms are folded across his chest and worry is written all over his face. Scott looks away.

“You okay, babe?”

“Yeah, great.” Even as he says it, he knows it doesn’t sound convincing.

“You sure? You’ve been quiet all day.”

“I’m fine. Just needed a moment to myself.”

“Okay. Do you want me to go?”

Scott looks back up, looks at the person who has been a steady presence since they were kids. The person who has been there for him through coming out, through messy breakups, through all the bad times, through all the good.

He shakes his head softly.

He doesn’t want Mitch to go. Mitch is the only person he can stand to be around when he’s like this and his calm demeanour might be exactly what he needs to pull himself together.

Mitch makes his way across the room to lean on the wall next to him. He doesn’t say another word, doesn’t make a move other than to slide his fingers in between Scott’s and hold on tight.

He might be having a rough day, might be ready to call time and hide out until he’s able to smile again. But he’ll never be alone.

“Thank you for being there,” he whispers softly, leaning his head down to rest on Mitch’s shoulder.

“Always.”


	5. Fresh

Mitch can’t believe how cold it is. He pulls the collar of his jacket up higher around his neck as he walks across campus towards his favourite coffee shop before his next class. 

His breath is visible in front of his face and his hands feel like blocks of ice but he doesn’t care. He actually likes the cold. The crisp, fresh air that fills his lungs and clears his mind. Turns everything around him a steely-grey colour. Makes everything sharper at the edges.

He picked well when he chose a college up north, sick of the long summers with no visible changes between seasons. Here, he gets the best of both worlds. Summers that are warm enough to lay on the grass in the park as he reads. Winters that are cold enough to snuggle into cute sweaters and scarves. 

As he’s crossing the courtyard, coffee shop in the distance, he feels his legs slip from underneath him. In slow motion, Mitch can see the ground coming up to meet him, can already feel the pain of his hands and knees colliding with the unforgiving concrete, but it never happens. 

Strong arms envelop him from behind and he’s back upright before he even has time to blink.

Looking to the side, his gaze falls on his rescuer He feels his eyes bug out of his head at the person before him.

He’s  _ gorgeous _ ! Tall and blonde with blue eyes that sparkle. His shoulders, that fill out his fitted jacket nicely, taper off into a trim waist and then the longest legs that Mitch has ever seen. Wow.

“Hi,” his guardian angel blushes, visibly uncomfortable with Mitch staring.

_ Fuck _ . “Hi. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

“No. It’s fine. I’m just glad I was in the right place at the right time. I’m Scott.” Scott holds his hand out in front of him. 

Mitch shakes it, his gloved hand still tiny in the paw that clasps it.

“Mitch. Thank you for… uh, saving me.”

“My pleasure,” Scott replies. The corners of his mouth twitch like he’s trying to suppress a giggle.

An awkward silence descends on the pair. Mitch leans his weight from side to side. Scott reaches his hand up to adjust his beanie.

“Bit cooler today, isn’t it?” Scott says, looking around the empty courtyard. 

“Yeah, feels a bit fresher than last week. Winter's on its way. I can’t wait.”

Scott looks back at Mitch. He smiles softly.

“Me either. I love winter.”

Mitch grins.

A moment passes. Mitch looks Scott over, trying to be less obvious, but he’s only human. And Scott is the prettiest person he’s seen for a while. This time, Scott grins at him brightly when he catches him. 

Biting the bullet, Mitch asks, “Hey, so… um, this is a bit forward of me but would you like to get coffee sometime?”

Scott stares at him for a moment before asking, “Now?”

He gestures over his shoulder to the coffee shop Mitch was already heading towards. Mitch was going to do school work and catch up on a few things but he thinks he’d be stupid to pass up the opportunity to spend more time with Scott.

“Yeah, now works.”

Scott stands next to him and offers his arm for Mitch to wrap his own around. Mitch looks up at him, quirking his eyebrow in a silent question.

“So you don’t fall again. I’d quite like you in one piece.”

Mitch freezes before breaking out into laughter, Scott joining in a beat behind.

Oh, they’re going to get along just fine.


	6. Soothing

Mitch sighs deeply as he sinks in the warm water, bubbles rising around his body. He leans back and slides down until his body is covered, only his head above the waterline. Bubbles tickle his chin. He sighs again as the warmth starts soaking into his skin.

His whole body aches after their long-ass video shoot. He adores the concept, thinks it’s exactly what they were going for and he’s so proud of it, but he didn’t expect the little bits they did in the ring to hurt so much. 

Mitch lays there for a while, hands gliding along the surface, letting the water soothe away the pain. He closes his eyes and inhales the floral scent of the bubble bath he used.

He’s lightly dozing when the door to the bathroom creaks open, making him startle upright in surprise, water splashing over the side. He thought he was home alone for the evening. He should’ve known better. Should’ve known after what they did today that Scott would want to check up on him.

It was a ride. Physically, emotionally, mentally.

They had to stop a couple of times because Mitch kept missing his cues. Too busy thinking about everything they’ve been through. All the trials and tribulations over the course of their long friendship and subsequent relationship. But they’d gotten through it. Both the years leading up to this point and the long day of filming. 

Scott is leaning against the doorframe, smiling down at him, arms crossed over his chest. He’s changed since he got home; into a tank top, sweats and backwards snapback. It reminds Mitch so much of a younger Scott that a lump forms in his throat.

“What are you doing here?” Mitch asks, coughing past the well of emotion in his chest. “I thought you were out with the girls tonight?”

“Hmm, Nicole said we’ll go out another night. Are you okay?”

Scott steps into the room and closes the door behind him. He walks over to the bath and kneels on the floor next to it, propping his head up on his elbows. 

Up close, Mitch can see how drained Scott is. His eyes are bloodshot, dark circles underneath. He smiles at Mitch, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. Mitch wonders if Scott hid how much he was struggling with today too. He wouldn’t put it past him.

Mitch can only remember him bouncing around the set, though, eager to get started, eager to tell their story through a visual. Asking question after question, insisting on taking selfies with everyone and only calming down when it was time to record.

Scott reaches a hand out and runs the back of it down Mitch’s cheek. Mitch nuzzles into the comfort. He kisses Scott’s knuckles as they brush his lips.

“Come on, get in here with me,” Mitch says softly, sliding forward to create space behind him.

Without a word, Scott stands and strips out of his clothes, leaving them a crumpled heap on the floor. He steps into the bath and gently eases down in the water. His legs settle either side of Mitch’s body. Arms come around him to pull him back into Scott’s embrace. Mitch leans his head against Scott’s shoulder and breathes deeply.

“Today was good, right?” Mitch asks.

“Today was great. I’m so proud of you, baby. I know how hard sharing the past is for you.” 

Mitch smiles as Scott kisses the side of his head.

“I don’t mind it so much when it’s with you. We’ve already done the hard part. It just made me think though.” Mitch leans to the side so he can see Scott better. “We’ve been through so much together, and it’s only made us stronger.”

Scott hums in agreement. When he speaks, his voice is lower, barely audible over the fizzing of the bubbles, but Mitch hears him anyway. 

“Only thing left now is to get married.” 

Mitch grins, blinking back tears as he settles back against Scott’s shoulder. Scott’s arms tighten across his chest. The warmth of his words soothes away the rest of his thoughts of the past, better than any bubble bath can achieve.

“I like the sound of that.”


	7. Pocket

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks Morg <3

Mitch winces at the shrill ring of his alarm; the noise of it so much louder than it usually is. He tries to block it out, burrowing further under his comforter, which quickly starts to feel like an uncomfortable weight across his face. He goes to push it away, but it seems heavier than normal, making breathing difficult, and what…?

When he opens his eyes, he immediately shuts them again because what the actual fuck is happening?

Carefully, Mitch opens one eye, hoping to god it’s just his mind playing tricks on him. But no. The heavy comforter bears down on him. The expanse of bed either side of him seems like miles.

He rolls to his knees, fighting his way out of the confining space until he reaches the bottom. He peeks his head over the edge, carefully sizing up the drop that a normal-sized Mitch doesn’t have to think twice about making. But right now it seems like jumping off a cliff.

Mitch takes a deep breath and gingerly turns to slide off backwards, hanging off the end with his fingertips.

“This is gonna hurt.”

He lets go with a scream, landing harshly on the wooden floor below. He gets to his feet, dusting himself off and looks up, and damn, that really was a long drop.

“Well, fuck.”

Standing at the foot of the bed, Mitch looks around his room. Everyone is _big_. Like huge. The floor stretches on for days. His shoes, that he left sat outside his closet door, look like mountains.

Is he still dreaming? There’s no way this is possible.

Is he drunk?!

He’s so busy thinking how the hell he’s going to fix this that he jumps when the floor starts rumbling underneath his feet. He’s never felt an earthquake before but he reckons this must be what it feels like.

Trying not to fall over, Mitch makes his way to the leg of the bed, holding on tightly as the shaking intensifies until he’s sure the bed is going to collapse on top of him. He scrunches his eyes closed.

The door to his room creaks open. Mitch freezes as the rumbling stops abruptly. Opening his eyes, he looks up (and up and up) until he sees the familiar face of his best friend. Scott’s looking around the room with a frown on his face.

“Mitch, are you here?” his booming voice calls. Mitch flinches, hands flying up to cover his ears against the noise.

The rumbles start again as Scott makes his way over to Mitch’s alarm, silencing it.

“Mitch?” Scott calls again. His feet turn as he looks around the room for him.

With his head held high, Mitch eases out from his hiding place, being careful to make sure he’s a far enough distance away that if anything happens, Scott won’t step on him.

“Scott?” he says, quietly, bouncing on the balls of his feet nervously.

Scott doesn’t react, instead crossing his arms across his chest, frown morphing into concern the longer he stands there.

Oh fuck. Mitch smacks a hand to his forehead. If he’s smaller, everything else is smaller too, his voice included.

Taking a deep breath, he cups his hands around his mouth and screams “Scott!” at the top of his lungs. Scott spins in place as he tries to find the source of the noise. “Down here!”

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, blue eyes land on him. Mitch waits as Scott registers what he’s seeing, watching Scott’s face change from concern to surprise to amusement.

“Oh my god,” Scott crows.

Mitch claps his hands on his ears again. Fuck. Scott’s _loud_.

“God, sorry, sorry.”

Scott starts to drop to his knees. Mitch quickly realises his mistake. He didn’t leave enough space, and Scott is going to squish him. He darts underneath the bed to safety, hiding in the shadows as Scott’s knees collide with the floor like a gunshot, and then he’s leaning forward onto his elbows, head appearing as he tries to find Mitch.

“Don’t laugh. Please don’t laugh,” Mitch begs.

“Oh, I’m so far from laughing. What the fuck happened? Why are you… pocket-sized all of a sudden?” he replies softly, voice no longer booming.

“How the fuck should I know? I was sleeping!” Mitch stamps his foot on the floor in frustration. And oh, he’s getting cold, having slept in only his underwear. He wraps his arms around himself, trying to stop the shivers wracking his body.

What the hell is he going to do?

Tears well in his eyes and his heart starts racing in his chest. He’s really, really screwed if they can’t fix this. How the hell is he supposed to sing if he’s tiny? He won’t be able to hold up a microphone, or do anything really… and oh…

Scott’s voice break through his panic. “...Mitch? Mitch, come here. Please, come out.”

Tentatively, Mitch walks towards Scott, breathing deeply and trying to stop his tears from falling. If anyone can help him fix this, it’s Scott.

He winces at the change in lighting, holding his hand up in front of his face. When he manages to pull them away, Scott is holding his hand out flat on the floor.

“I’m not getting on there,” Mitch protests. He does have _some_ dignity left.

Scott huffs a laugh. “Are you kidding? It’ll take you forever to get to the kitchen and I left my phone out there. Come on. Stop being a brat for thirty seconds.”

Mitch groans. “Fine.”

He climbs onto Scott’s hand, making sure to sit in the middle so he’s in no danger of falling off. Getting out of bed was one thing. Falling six feet will probably kill him.

“Don’t drop me!” he shouts as Scott stands unsteadily. He rocks from side-to-side in Scott’s palm, and with nothing to grab onto, Mitch starts screaming.

“Relax. I’m not going to drop you.” Scott’s other hand comes up to surround him.

Instantly he feels safer, wedged between two hands that always make him feel better. Whether one of them is laced with his own, or rubbing his back, or holding him tightly. He’s so thankful Scott decided to stay home last night.

Scott starts to walk, heading out of Mitch’s room.

“Onward!” Mitch shouts, bursting into hysterical giggles.

“Shut up or I’ll put you in my pocket.”

Mitch scoffs, leaning back against Scott’s hand with his arms crossed. “I’ll bite.”

“Please. Like that’ll hurt.”

“Try me.”

“Shut up, and let's find out how to fix this.”


	8. Ritual

It happens the same way every single time.

Drinks in the kitchen.

Daring each other to do shots.

Piling into a cab with their friends, sitting so close Mitch is practically in Scott’s lap.

Holding hands on their way into the bar so they don’t lose each other.

More drinks. More shots.

Sly glances from across the group.

One pulling the other onto the dance floor.

Trying to one-up the other with ridiculous dance moves until the music changes.

Sliding closer together, matching grins on their faces.

Mitch spinning around in Scott’s arms so his back is pressed to Scott’s front.

Hands coming up to wrap around his hips as Scott presses in closer.

Grinding on each other on the packed dance floor that might as well be empty.

Scott kissing Mitch’s neck softly.

“Time to go home.”

“Yes, please.”

Racing into a waiting cab, giggling the whole way home.

Rushing into the house, clothes stripped off on the way to one of their rooms.

The slick slide of skin on skin until… bliss.

Sleeping wrapped around each other.

Waking up the following morning, never talking about the night before.

It always happens the exact same way.

Maybe one day someone will be brave enough to change that, but until then, they always have those nights.


	9. Fruit

“This is nice,” Scott says, reaching for an apple slice off the tray in front of him. He looks up at the clear night sky, humming in contentment.

“It really is,” Mitch replies. “The next couple of months are going to be crazy.”

Scott turns his head to face his friend, who’s staring up at the night sky too, a small smile on his lips.

They’re sitting side-by-side at the table on their balcony, taking advantage of the fact that for the first time ever, they aren’t running around the night before tour kicks off still getting things done. It’s probably because it’s just the two of them and a handful of crew; less than half the size of a Pentatonix tour. They had everything organised a week ago, using this past week to see friends and visit places they wouldn’t be able to for a while.

“Good crazy or bad crazy?”

Mitch rolls his head to the side to face Scott and then rolls his eyes.

“Good crazy, obviously. Couldn’t imagine doing this with anyone else, babe.”

Scott smiles, cheeks aching from how wide it is. Mitch blushes and clears his throat before turning back to gaze at the sky.

A warm breeze drifts over the silent pair, each stuck in their own heads. Scott is grateful that everyone understood he needed a quiet night with his best friend before starting this chapter in their lives. Pentatonix is still there, of course, but this is just them; Scott and Mitch, Superfruit, honest and vulnerable on the stage together, sharing their journey with everyone.

Their voyage to this point hasn’t been easy, quite the opposite in fact, but Scott wouldn’t have done it any other way.

He reaches to grab another apple slice and takes a bite.

“I’m sleeping with you tonight,” Mitch says absentmindedly.

Scott inhales sharply. And it’s then he realises he hadn’t chewed as much as he thought he had, and oh fuck.

He tries not to panic, but that only last so long before he’s banging a hand on the table, trying to get Mitch’s action. He can feel the small piece of fruit stuck in his throat and no matter how much he tries to swallow, the damn thing  _will not budge_. Oh god, he’s going to die.

“Oh god, Scotty!”

Mitch jumps up from his chair. Scott vaguely hears it hitting the ground. He turns in his seat and looks up at Mitch. His eyes are watering. His breaths coming out in gasps, wheezing on an inhale. He can feel his face heating up, can only imagine how red he’s gone.

“What do you want me to do?” Mitch screams, hands hovering in front of him.

Scott gestures to his back, hoping Mitch will understand. He clutches at the collar of his t-shirt, tugging at the material helplessly.

Fuck, why didn’t he chew _more_?

Just as he starts to think Mitch isn’t going to do anything, he smacks him hard on the back. Ow, damn. When it’s obvious it hasn’t helped, Mitch hits him again, harder, just under his shoulder blades. Hits him hard enough, Scott can feel the bite of apple come loose and fly out of his mouth, landing innocently on the floor the other side of the table.

Scott takes a deep gasping breath, flopping back against the chair. He hears Mitch breathe a sigh of relief but slapping him sharply on the arm.

“What the hell was that for?” Scott rasps, jerking away. He lifts the collar of his t-shirt, using it to wipe the tears still running down his face.

“You scared the shit outta me!” Mitch replies.

Scott can see the fear in Mitch’s eyes, his shaking hands and how he bites his lip nervously.

“Sorry. You just caught me off-guard.” Scott reaches out and tugs Mitch onto his lap. Mitch goes easily, a little too easily considering he usually bats Scott’s hands away.

“How? It’s not something I haven’t said before.”

“I know. Just…” Scott could explain himself, but right now he doesn’t think he can. He wants to cuddle Mitch and forget about the fact he nearly just died. He shivers involuntarily at the thought.

Mitch must feel it because in the time it takes Scott to blink, he’s off Scott’s lap and righting the chair he knocked over.

“Come on, let’s go inside.” Mitch gathers up his phone, mug and the fruit platter, making his way into the house. “This can go in the trash. Don’t think I want any more after that.”

Scott ducks his head in embarrassment. “Sorry, Mitchy.”

Mitch whorls on the spot. “Why are you sorry? You didn’t do it on purpose.”

“For scaring you.”

Mitch’s eyes soften, fear morphing into fondness. He drops everything onto the counter and walks back over to Scott. Reaching up onto his toes, he presses his forehead to Scott’s, hands cupping Scott’s face to keep himself steady.

“Yes, you scared me. I need you. Always.”

Scott smiles. He’ll always need Mitch too.


	10. Dance

He’s been watching him for a while, looking through the window into the dance studio he’s meeting some friends outside of. Watching as his body moves, undulating to music that’s muffled through the glass. A heavy bassline the only thing Mitch can hear. He rests his hand on the glass, feeling the vibrations through his fingers.

The music comes to an end, and the tall, blonde he’s been watching stops moving, facing the mirror in the studio with his hands on his hips. His chest moves up and down rapidly as he catches his breath. Another song starts and he spins on the spot, freezing when his eyes lock with Mitch’s.

“Shit,” Mitch mumbles, darting out of view. He never intended to be caught snooping and now this guy is going to think he’s a creep. But oh, he was so beautiful, the way his body moved like he was made of water; so fluid, but controlled at the same time. It was mesmerising.

Slowly, Mitch peeks around the edge of the glass, hoping that the dancer has gone back to what he was doing before he spotted him, but as the blonde comes back into view, he’s grinning at the glass, waiting. He gestures for Mitch to come inside.

Mitch shakes his head vehemently. There is no way he’s going in there. He is  _not_  a dancer. And now he’s embarrassed himself being caught, the last thing he wants to do is meet the guy who probably just wants to tell him off for staring.

The dancer disappears out of a door at the back of the studio and a couple of seconds later, the main door a few feet down from Mitch opens outwards. The guy steps out, barefoot, stopping at the threshold of the door.

He’s so much taller than he looked behind the glass; blonde hair falling like waves across his forehead, eyes squinting at the bright sunlight. Sweat glistens on the skin visible around his tank top and shorts.

He’s fucking  _gorgeous_ , Mitch realises. Everything about him, from his hair to his body, to the way he holds himself, and the way he’s looking at Mitch with a soft smile and flushed cheeks.

Mitch can feel how flushed his own face is; both from being seen and the look on this person’s face, like he’s someone he’s known forever. He’s never going to live this down if his friends see him.

“Hi,” the dancer says, lifting the hand that isn’t holding onto the door to wave.

“I’m so- sorry… I didn’t mean to stare, or disturb you,” Mitch says, stumbling over his rushed words. He looks down at the ground, shuffling his feet awkwardly.

“That’s quite all right. Wouldn’t’ve chosen the front studio if I was bothered by people watching. Would you like to come in?”

Mitch’s head shoots up. “Um, no. That’s okay. I’m not really a… I don’t dance.”

“You don’t have to dance. You can just watch if you want.”

“Oh, um.” Mitch slides his phone out of his pocket. “My friends are going to be here any second…” He looks at the time, and his smile drops. “But they’re already twenty minutes late. I guess I could come in for a little while.”

Mitch giggles in surprise when the blonde fist pumps the air happily.

“But I’m not dancing.”

The dancer holds his hands up in surrender, eyes twinkling in amusement. “I won’t make you dance, Scout’s honour.”

Mitch nods, making his way towards the door, following as he’s led down a corridor into a dimly lit studio, music still playing through hidden speakers.

“I’m Scott, by the way.” Scott makes his way over to the sound-system, skipping a couple of tracks until Beyonce starts playing. Instantly, his hips start moving to the beat, like he’s hardwired to dance whenever he hears music.

“Mitch.”

Mitch makes his way over to the bench seat that runs the whole length of one side of the room, dropping his bag and jacket next to him as he sits down. He can see the sidewalk from here, will be able to see when his friends finally arrive.

Pulling his attention back into the room, he watches as Scott swings his arms from side to side, rolling his head backwards, stretching out his neck. He bounces on the balls of his feet a few times, before stopping and staring back at Mitch. A pleased smile blooms on his face when he looks down at Mitch’s feet, seeing them tapping away on the floor to the music. Mitch freezes.

“Are you sure you don’t want to dance? The queen makes everyone want to dance.”

Mitch laughs nervously. “Oh, I’m sure. My body isn’t really designed to dance. Two left feet.”

Scott guffaws loudly. “Yeah, there’s no way that’s true.” Scott winks at him. Mitch’s mouth drops open in surprise.

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

“Come on.” Scott doesn’t answer, just makes his way over to him, holding out his hand, wiggling his fingers the longer Mitch stares at it. “Just one song. That’s all I’m asking.”

With a sigh, Mitch leans over to remove his shoes. “One song.”

Scott nods, a serious expression on his face until Mitch stands and his permanent smile widens, eyes twinkling under the force of it.

Mitch sighs in exasperation, taking Scott’s outstretched hand, letting him lead him into the middle of the floor.

[ _hours and hours later, they’re still dancing, giggling as their dance moves get more and more ridiculous. mitch doesn’t even notice when his phone goes off, his friends texting him to say they can’t make it and they’re sorry for standing him up. he can’t bring himself to care when he finds it, the sun long disappeared over the horizon. the new number programmed into his phone more than enough to keep the smile on his face_ ]


	11. Messy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No idea if they have this in the US, but my niece goes to something like this over here in the UK. Gives kids an opportunity to be creative and messy and it felt like it fit for this.

“Daddy, daddy!”

“Yes, darling?” Scott asks his two-year-old daughter, who’s tugging on his pant leg, orange fingerprints appearing on his clothes. He doesn’t bat an eyelid at the mess. He’s been covered in much worse over the last couple of years, and the person running the group assured everyone at the beginning that the paint would come out.

“Look!”

He’s handed a piece of paper, multicoloured splotches painted on the surface. Fingerprints litter the edges. It’s the prettiest picture Scott has ever seen.

He might be slightly biased.

“Wow, Jess, that’s beautiful.” He crouches down behind his daughter, pulling her into the space between his legs. She turns in his arms, hands coming up to wrap around his neck.

“That’s you and me and- and a doggie,” she explains, grinning up at him.

“I can see that. It’s so pretty. Can Daddy put this up on the fridge when we get home?”

Jess nods at him, curls bouncing from where they’ve shaken loose from her pigtails. Purple, pink and green streaks are smeared across her face, blue over the backs of her hands. Luckily, they were given overalls for the children to wear; the staff probably knew how much paint would end up over them rather than the paper.

It’s all good fun though. Scott’s been bringing Jess to this group since she started walking. It’s an opportunity for children of a young age to get as messy and creative as they want in a safe space; no chance of ruined wallpaper or carpets. The previous week they were painting chocolate eggs, this week is fingerpainting, next week is play-doh. Scott’s never seen so many smiley, happy faces.

“How are we getting on over here?” a voice says over his shoulder.

Scott turns to look up at the newcomer, realising it’s one of the employees they befriended one of the first weeks. Every week since he makes a point of checking in with Scott and Jess, hanging around for a lot longer than Scott thinks he should be. Not that he’s complaining at all. He’s wonderful with Jess; patient and kind, hanging on to her every word. And he’s not hard for Scott to look at either.

“Mr Mitch,” Jess calls out, pushing her way out of Scott’s arms, gripping onto Mitch’s leg with her fingers. Scott goes to stop her, worried about her covering Mitch in paint too, but Mitch waves him off with a smile.

Mitch crouches down next to Jess. “Hey Miss Jess, are you having fun today?”

She nods happily. Scott smiles softly as they talk to each other; Mitch listening to her intently, eyes never leaving her face.

During the course of their short conversation, Jess ends up sitting on his lap, hands playing with the hem of Mitch’s t-shirt. Her green eyes light up as she tells Mitch about her and Scott’s trip to the petting zoo earlier in the week, making noises for all the animals that has Mitch in tears, including a roar of a lion that Scott knows they definitely didn’t see.

Absentmindedly, Scott glances at the clock on the wall, seeing that it’s time to start packing up. Getting Jess’ hands washed and her out of the overalls is always a nightmare. She fights every step of the process, not wanting to go home. Looking at Mitch, Scott can certainly relate.

“Time to get cleaned up, buttercup,” Scott says, reaching for Jess. And just like always, her face scrunches up and tears well in her eyes. It breaks his heart every time. Scott sighs sadly.

Mitch must hear him because he runs his fingers across the table and shows them to Jess, winking at Scott.

Gasping in fake surprise, Mitch says, “Miss Jess, why don’t we go and wash my hands. I seem to have gotten paint over them.”

Scott watches as Jess takes Mitch’s outstretched hand and lets him lead her over to the sinks in the corner. With another sigh, Scott starts gathering up Jess’ paintings and shoes. He’s just about managed to grab everything when something slams into the side of his leg. When he looks down, his very clean daughter is looking up at him, grinning wide.

“Daddy, can Mr Mitch come with us?”

Scott freezes. He looks over Mitch, who’s hovering the other side of the table, face blank, not giving anything away. Does Mitch  _want_  to come home with them, he wonders. He never has before. Only seeing each other during this one hour a week. Admittedly, it’s the best hour of Scott’s week.

“Um, I’m sure Mr Mitch is very busy tonight. Maybe some other time?”

“No, Daddy,” Jess whines, tears welling in her eyes once again.

One day, he’ll be able to say no and mean it.

Without saying anything, Scott looks at Mitch pleadingly.  _Please, please say you’re not busy_. Mitch nods his head once.

“Sure, Mr Mitch can come with us.” He smiles at Mitch gratefully. “Do you need a ride or…?”

“No, just… here.” He slides his phone out his back pocket and hands it to Scott. “Give me your number and I’ll miss call you. Text me your address and I’ll meet you there when I’ve finished here. I need to clean up first.”

Scott nods, taking the phone. “Okay, sounds good. Here that, love, Mr Mitch is going to come a bit later.” He types his number into Mitch’s phone and when he looks up, Jess has wrapped one of her arms around Mitch’s leg, sucking the thumb of her other hand into her mouth. She grins up at Mitch, who looks back at her with wonder in his eyes.

A warm feeling spreads across Scott’s chest.

“Come on, Jess. Let’s go.” He takes her hand in his and starts to lead her out the room. “Say ‘ _bye Mr Mitch_ ’.”

“Bye Mr Mitch,” she echoes, turning to wave.

“See you soon, Miss Jess,” he calls back. “Later, Scott.” When Scott looks back, Mitch winks at him and grins, all white teeth and squinty eyes.

Scott grins back, giggling softly.


	12. Strong

In public, he always has to be strong. Have a smile on his face. Be nice to fans (which admittedly isn’t too difficult) and people in general. Look put together and not like he’s thirty seconds from a breakdown.

In private though, he doesn’t have to be strong. He can cry and throw things. Scream until his lungs give out. Lie in bed for hours staring at the ceiling.

At home, he has someone who can be strong enough for the both of them. Someone who knows just by looking at him if the day is going to be good or bad. Someone who knows how to calm him down, how to wipe his tears and bring him out of his head. Someone who loves him unconditionally.

Doesn’t matter how many plates he throws at the wall, doesn’t matter how long he goes without a shower.

Without fail Scott is there for him. Whether he’s just a presence in the room or wrapped around him for a cuddle. Bringing him coffee or water or making him toast. Being quiet or talking enough to drown out the voices.

He’ll always be grateful.

Mitch wraps his arms around Scott’s neck as he sits at the dining table playing on his laptop quietly. He presses a kiss to Scott’s check before straightening back up.

“I love you.”

Scott turns to him with a sweet smile, eyes lit up as he looks back at Mitch.

“I love you too.”


	13. Temptation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for not telling me to scrap this Joce! <3

In the three centuries that Mitchell Grassi has been alive, he’s seen everything.

He’s witnessed countries fall to ruin. He’s seen illnesses decimate population centres. Observed humanity change, technology advance. Watched as the present day emerged from the shadows of the past.

Nothing surprises him anymore.

Except for… well…  _him_.

It was supposed to be just an ordinary day. Another day of whispering unsavoury suggestions into unsuspecting humans’ ears. Another day of watching ill advised ideas take root behind hollow eyes. Another day of causing mischief and mayhem wherever he chooses to wander.

Mitch is walking down Oxford Street in London, invisible to the people that pass him. The sun shines high in the sky. The ground is warm beneath his bare feet. His long, black coat flutters around him in the gentle breeze.

It’s when he looks up from watching his feet as he purposely steps on the cracks that he spots  _him_  in the distance, looking so very tempting that if Mitch had a heart, it would have stopped dead in his chest.

His back is to Mitch as he drops coins into the hat of a busker playing a guitar that’s seen better looking days. From what Mitch can see he’s tall and blonde, wearing a flannel shirt and jeans, looking very much like he’s not in a rush to be anywhere. Taking his time wandering the streets on his way to somewhere probably very dull, Mitch is sure.

It’s not his body that entices Mitch, although it’s a very nice body. It’s the white light emanating from him that looks positively sinful. It flows around him in waves, moving as he does; golden flecks glittering in the sunlight bearing down on them.

These are his favourite targets.

The good souls who aren’t susceptible to his whispered words. The ones who present a very welcome challenge. He loves watching as the flecks turn to ash. As the light dims until it turns black as coal. The smiles on their faces morph into frowns as one final push breaks through.

Mitch licks his lips. He can practically taste the satisfaction settling in his veins.

He takes a step forward, ready to follow, but when his target turns around, he freezes.

His blue ( _so very blue_ ) eyes lock on Mitch as he stands there. A smile blooms on the blonde’s face, pushing his cheeks up and making his eyes squint, perfect white teeth on display. Mitch looks over his shoulder, wondering if he’s smiling at someone behind him, but when Mitch looks back, he comes face-to-face with a chest.

“Oh,” he whispers, looking up. He can  _see_   _him_. What?!

“Hi,” the blonde says, looking down at Mitch, that same damn smile still bright on his face. “I’m Scott.”

 _Oh fuck_.


	14. Second

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M NOT LATE - IT'S STILL THE 14TH...

A flash of lightning lights up the sky beyond the window pane, illuminating the intertwined couple on the sofa; snuggled together under blankets as Scott watches the rain slide down the glass.

_One. Two. Three. Fou-_

Thunder rumbles overhead, making a smile bloom on Scott’s face as Mitch tightens his arm across his stomach. His face is hidden in the space between Scott’s neck and shoulder; short, panicky breaths tickling his skin.

Scott nuzzles his face against the side of Mitch’s head, pressing a kiss to the tip of his ear.

“It’s right above us now,” Scott says, voice soft and raspy after sitting in silence for so long.

They’ve been quietly watching the storm rage outside their little bubble for over an hour. The sky changing from purple to grey to black as the clouds rolled in, bringing with it the smell of rain and the promise of thunder. Their power went out shortly after the rain started - big, fat drops at first that smacked against the glass until a deluge of water started to fall from the sky, overwhelming the guttering around the roof of the house until it started falling like sheets across the windows, distorting the view of the hills beyond.

“I wasn’t aware of that fact, so thank you for pointing it out,” he hears Mitch mumble from his hiding place. Scott chuckles softly.

A few moments later, Mitch starts to shift, removing his arm from across Scott and settling with his legs tucked under him. Scott presses another kiss to the side of Mitch’s face as it passes in front of him as he reaches for his wine glass off the coffee table.

Another bolt of lightning lights up the room. Scott feels Mitch shiver uncomfortably next to him.

He places his hand on Mitch’s knee as he starts counting out loud.

“One. Two. Three. Four. Five.”

Mitch whimpers as a rumble follows, covering his face with his hands.

“It’s not going to hurt you, Mitchy.” Scott wraps his arm around Mitch and pulls him back into his side until his face is pressed against his neck. “Not with me around.”


	15. Sharing

The album release was never going to be easy.

After spending so much time delving into the past, spreading feelings across the table like playing cards as they wrote the lyrics, recording as he blinked back tears when memories flashed across his mind, all Scott wants to do is relax and unwind.

He’s excited - very, very excited - but sharing so much of himself with the world is still scary, is still so new to him, even if it feels like everyone knows everything already.

He feels raw, stripped to the bone, vibrating with nervous energy. In a couple of hours, everyone is going to hear the second part of the EP. The part with the tracks who’s writing sessions left him feeling like he’d stepped out of a therapist’s office after laying himself bare. He thought he’d got over this after their first release, but no, it stills feels exactly the same.

The same panicky thoughts flit across his mind. Will people like it? Is it good enough? Does Mitch still love it like he said he did?

“I’m going out with the guys,” he says, stopping in the doorway to Mitch’s room. He tries to stop his every thought showing on his face, relieved when he sees Mitch has his back to him. He watches as his friend picks apart his wardrobe, systematically going through the rails trying to find what he wants. “Do you want to come with?”

Mitch hums to himself before turning to look at him. He looks tired, Scott thinks, although he’s doing a very good job of trying to hide it. It’s in the little tells only Scott can see. Hands shaking as he pulls a white shirt off a hanger, legs restless like he can’t decide if he wants to sit down or keep moving. His face looks drawn, although it’s nothing a bit of makeup won’t cover. A sad tilt to his lips that will disappear as soon as he notices Scott watching… and yup, there it goes.

“Hey, are you okay?” Scott asks, crossing the threshold and picking his way across the room, dodging shoes and pants that Mitch has discarded in his quest for an outfit. He stops in front of Mitch, looking down at him, ducking his head to maintain eye contact when Mitch tries to look away.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” Mitch waves his hand as if to dismiss the concern. “Just, long week.”

“Yeah, it has been.” Scott wraps his arms around his friend. He pulls him against his chest, holding him tightly. Mitch’s arms eventually wrap around his waist the longer he holds on; refusing to let go even if Mitch doesn’t want the comfort. “I can stay if you want?”

“What? Oh no, no. I’m really fine, hunty. Go hang out with everyone. We’ll see each other in the morning. People are coming over anyway.”

Scott hesitates. He knows when Mitch is lying and this doesn’t feel like one of those times. He can’t help but wonder though, why Mitch looks so tired. Is he tired of him? Tired after spending most of the week together, and granted, they’re used to living in each other’s pockets, but has Mitch finally had enough?

“Stop thinking.” Mitch snaps his fingers in front of Scott’s face, pulling him out of his head. “It’s not you. It’s not anything. Nothing a bit of TLC from friends and a couple of glasses of wine won’t fix.”

“If you’re sure…”

“I swear to god, Scott, if you don’t go…”

Scott holds his hands up in surrender, chuckling at the empty threat. “Okay, I’m going. I’m going. Call me later?”

“I will be calling you at midnight to scream. Now go. I love you.”

Scott’s chest warms. “I love you too.”

He leaves the house with a bounce in his step. He might be sharing everything with the world, but he’s not alone while doing it, and that means so much more than anyone could ever know.


	16. Bag

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here, have the worst thing I've ever written...

“I’m speechless.”

“Shut up.”

“No, really. I am.”

“Are you going to tell me why?”

“You didn’t buy it.”

“I figured I have enough bags now.”

“I could’ve told you that after the last ten you bought… OW! What was that for?”

“You’re a dick.”

“You love this dick… OW! What was  _ that _ for?”

“Ew.”

“Mitchy, that is not what you said last night.”

“Oh god, please stop, or I’m going to buy it.”

“You and I both know that you’re going to buy it.”

“Yeah, probably… but what colour should I get?”

“So you can pick the opposite one I do? Yeah, no, pick yourself.”

“Both?”

“DO NOT BUY BOTH. Mitch, no.”


	17. Sister

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tried something a little different for today...

The sun shines brightly through the hallway window as Skye makes her towards her parent’s room, Mr Bear safely held against her chest. Her socked feet shuffle sleepily along the carpet as she brushes her curly brown hair out of her eyes.

It’s not very often she wakes up before Dad, and she knows she should wait in her room for him or Papa to come get her for breakfast, but she’s hungry. The hour hand on the clock by her bed is far enough around that she figures it’s an acceptable time to be awake. And if they haven’t come to get her, well, she’ll just have to go to them.

She’s about to knock on the slightly open door when hushed voices stop her in her tracks. The kind of quiet speaking she knows she shouldn’t interrupt. Adult-talk that kids shouldn’t be hearing. The kind that stops whenever she walks into the room. They’ve been doing that a lot lately.

“ _What time’s the meeting with the agency?_ ”

“ _Noon_.”

Skye freezes. Agency… she’s heard that word before, back when she was living in the children’s home and other kids were talking about where they’d come from and where they were going.  _Adoption agency_.

But oh, she’s been so good lately. She’s stopped fighting at school and done all her homework on time. She does all her chores and her room is tidy and…

She pushes the door open and runs over to the bed, throwing herself in between Dad and Papa, tears in her eyes.

“I’m sorry. Whatever I did. I’m sorry. Please don’t take me back. I’ll be good. I promise.”

Heaving sobs fall out of her mouth as she pulls Mr Bear closer to her chest, burying her face in his soft stomach.

“Honey!” Papa says, pulling her into his arms, holding her as tight as she’s holding Mr Bear. “What’s wrong? Oh my god. Scotty.”

A hand rubs at her back, trying to soothe her but she can’t breathe through her tears, breaths coming in hiccupping gasps that hurt. A sicky feeling settles in her stomach the longer she cries.

“Skye, sweetie. Breathe, honey. Tell us what’s wrong.”

“I don’t- don’t want to go back.”

Skye looks up from where she’s hiding to find Dad looking at her. He looks sad and confused, teeth biting into his bottom lip as he glances over at Papa.

“Go where?”

“The home,” she explains, rubbing at her wet eyes.

“What home?” Dad looks at Papa again before he looks back at her, mouth hanging open. “Oh, sweetie. Were you listening to us? Oh, my... no. Okay, come here.”

Dad sits up against the headboard, pulling her up with him and settling her across his lap. She snuggles into his chest, playing with the sleeve of his t-shirt. It’s her favourite place to sit. She always feels safe and warm in Dad’s arms. Papa sits up next to them, holding her ankle in his hand, tickling her skin as he rubs his thumb over the bone.

“Sweetie, we aren’t taking you back anywhere. You’re stuck with us.” Dad kisses the top of her head, rubbing her back. “We love you, more than anything. You aren’t going anywhere.”

“But, you said ‘agency’?”

Papa giggles, making her smile. She loves that sound.

“We did. But only because… Okay, so we weren’t going to tell you until we passed, but how would you feel about having a little sister?”

Skye’s mouth drops open in surprise. “A- a sister?!”

Papa nods at her, a smile on his face. His eyes look happy; sparkly like the headband she wears all the time. She brushes her fringe off her face.

“A sister,” Dad responds.

“I’m getting a sister?” she asks. Oh yes, a sister! Someone she can play dress-up with, play dolls with and her dinosaur toys that Uncle Avi bought her, and this is the best news ever.

“We don’t know for certain yet, but hopefully.”

“I’m going to be the best big sister ever.”

Skye feels her Dad nod.

“You really are, sweetie. So what do you say we go have some breakfast, and we’ll get all dressed up and go see some nice people about making that happen?”

She scrambles off the bed happily, Mr Bear’s paw held tightly in her hands, and runs over to the door. She turns back before she runs through the doorway. “I want pancakes.”

Her parent’s laughter follows her out the room.


	18. Clouds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is VERY late, I know. The doc put me on anti-depressants and I seem to be having every side-effect under the sun. Will try to catch back up but I'll probably be posting these into October now. *sigh*

He’s been lying in the park for hours, enjoying a rare day off and a chance to clear his head. Exactly what he needed after working every single day for the last few weeks.

The sun is high in the sky promising warmth and relaxation. Fluffy, white clouds break up the endless blue; their shadows tracing patterns across the grass as they drift aimlessly in front of the sun. A gentle breeze ruffles his hair, sending a shiver up his spine as it pushes up the back of his t-shirt slightly.

Mitch sighs in contentment before pulling his book closer to his chest and adjusting his sunglasses on his nose. He’s halfway through a new mystery novel he picked up the week before and he doesn’t intend on moving until he’s either finished or the rain they’d forecast for the afternoon hits. Glancing up at the sky though, the rain is a long way off.

An hour later, he’s leaning over to grab his bottle of water when someone yells “heads up!”

Instinctively Mitch ducks his head, hearing a thud as whatever was flying through the air lands on the grass the other side of him. He turns his head towards the object, spotting a volleyball lying several feet away.

Turning his head the other way to find the culprit, his heart skips a beat at the sight of the person jogging towards him. Like something carved by the gods themselves, he’s tall and muscly, without it being too much, wearing a tank top, shorts and a snapback that pushes back blonde hair. As he nears Mitch, his smile widens.

“Hey. I’m really sorry about that. My friends aren’t the most co-ordinated of people.”

Mitch rolls over onto his side, setting his book facedown so he doesn’t lose his place.

“That’s okay. Thanks for the warning.”

When blue eyes wander over him appraisingly, Mitch quirks his eyebrow, giggling softly when the blonde blushes at being caught. It’s cute the way he ducks his head shyly.

“Yo, Scott, come on, man!” is called across the grass, startling them both.

Scott turns towards his friends, waving his hands. When he turns back, he looks almost sad.

“I’m sorry, I gotta go. Sorry about that again.” Scott circles Mitch to grab the volleyball, tucking it under his arm. “See you around?”

“Definitely,” Mitch nods, already thinking about his next day off and if he can cancel any plans to be here.

Scott chuckles, looking back at Mitch over his shoulder as he walks towards his friends. When he gets to them, they laugh and pat him on the back, making Mitch giggle as he pulls his book back towards him, head filled with thoughts of blonde hair and blue eyes.


End file.
